


Feel It Burning Inside My Heart

by Sterekism



Series: Machine Shenanigans [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Banter, Bottom Derek, Bottom Derek Hale, Edgeplay, Fucking Machines, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Schmoop, Sex Toys, Top Stiles Stilinski, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1893009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sterekism/pseuds/Sterekism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn’t thought about it. He really hadn’t. He, Stiles Stilinski, hadn’t let the option even cross his ever spinning mind, carefully avoided thinking about anything involving… that. Because he was a good, awesomely considerate person who rarely objectified people. Someone who respected the fairer and same sex. Jup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel It Burning Inside My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 in the thrilling (lol) Fucking Machines series! Not beta-read, so be prepared for a bunch of mistakes that I probably didn't catch.

He hadn’t thought about it. He _really_ hadn’t. He, Stiles Stilinski, hadn’t let the option even cross his ever spinning mind, carefully avoided thinking about anything involving… _that._ Because he was a good, awesomely considerate person who rarely objectified people. Someone who respected the fairer and same sex. Jup.

Or you know, he lied to himself instead. Like right now. Let’s be real.

He’d thought about it for what felt like every second of every day they’d been together after that one afternoon. Every time Derek had moaned into his neck, or taken his time pulling Stiles apart at the seams and leaving him a quivering moaning mess. All those times, the somewhat appropriate ones, where it was _ok_ to think about sexy things. 

Also the not so sexy, probably kind of inappropriate times where Derek was just snoring on the couch or when they were eating so yeah, _always._ Even if the situation didn’t call for a stiffie.

He wanted to see Derek use _it_. The words ‘You get to watch me while I use that thing,’ had haunted his every waking (and sleeping) moment, in a truly awful boner inducing way, since they’d left Derek’s lips. 

Stiles would think about it at the most horrible times, cursing under his breath because he had enough information to be able to actually _picture_ the punchdrunk look on Derek’s face when he came. Because now he actually _knew_ how Derek felt against him, how he’d shiver in unmasked pleasure when Stiles gave him a sloppy blowjob or twisted his fingers in Derek’s hair the right way. How he’d smirk when he surprised Stiles with something they hadn’t done in bed before, which was often. It was truly terrifying and also arousing and Stiles kind of hated Derek because of it. But also not really. Because Derek was probably the hottest guy Stiles knew, and Stiles was a person who had _eyes._ Who saw Derek. Often naked and panting and _yeah._ But it really was _all_ Derek’s fault, because the douche said _that_ and then seemed to completely forget about it, failing to even imply anything regarding the machine or his butt or a combination of the two. And Stiles would remember if he had, because he liked that butt okay? Derek’s butt was sculpted so well it probably would’ve made Michelangelo weep from sheer artistic frustration. No sculptor could ever do Derek Hale’s bottom justice.

The thing is, Stiles also didn’t want to scare Derek off. Because what they had was new and kind of exactly what he needed and never knew he wanted in the first place. Because while the sex was _great_ , (more like mind blowing because Derek really knew his way around the bedroom okay? And the kitchen. And the bathroom.) the cuddling (who would’ve thought _that_ right?) and the snarking and just _Derek_ giving him the time of day, and orgasms, were more important than Stiles ever would’ve dared dream or fantasize about.

He was kind of stupidly in love with Derek, actually, if he thought about it hard enough.  That didn’t help the fact that Stiles wanted to see him play with his own ass. And wanted to play with Derek’s ass himself. And probably put stuff up there. Like his dick. And other stuff. And Stiles kind of hated himself because of that. But he also kind of didn’t, because Derek and butt stuff were both very important things in Stiles’ life.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t talked about Derek bottoming before. They had, in somewhat vague terms, talked about potentially switching. They’d just never actually gotten to it because Stiles (or Derek) would do something and they’d end up coming their brains out within minutes, never actually getting to the point that Stiles wanted to reach. But Stiles _wanted._ He really _really_ wanted. Not that he was complaining because bottoming was- _God-_ it was all kinds of _fantastic_ , because Derek really knew how to hit all the right places. Inside and outside of him. But Stiles still _wants._

So one mid afternoon, Stiles brings it up. And it’s probably the most horrible timing ever, because they’re literally waiting for the cashier to ring up their chips and soda and the turkey bacon Stiles has to buy for his dad. And Derek just gives him this _look_ and Stiles _knows_ he shouldn’t have said anything because the lady behind the register is giving him the stink eye. And so is Derek. But also, just maybe, it isn’t a bad thing because Derek’s ears are getting kind of pink and that is _always_ a good thing.

Stiles feels conflicted.

He isn’t anymore when Derek pushes him against the side of his jeep, making Stiles drop their grocery bag, and makes the most beautiful noise Stiles has ever had the pleasure to hear. He’s pretty sure he’s as far from conflicted as he can probably get _ever_ , when Derek kisses him so hard Stiles bangs his head against one of the jeep’s windows and Stiles doesn’t even _care_.

“You are such a little shit, Stiles,” Derek pants against his lips, his hands scrambling against Stiles’ stomach and tugging at his shirt. “Such a goddamn _tease.”_

“Don’t act like you don’t like it,” Stiles answers and _wow_ he’s totally right (who would’ve thought?) because Derek thrusts up against him and his breath is all shaky and- “Is this turning you on?” Stiles flips them and suddenly it’s Derek with his back against the car, Stiles standing between his legs. He shouldn’t even have been able to flip the guy over, let alone push him away with any kind of force, but Derek had gone willingly. _Fuck._ Stiles’ hands drifted and somehow totally unintentionally (right), end up on Derek’s ass, squeezing the cheeks harshly. And Derek actually keens. “Are you getting off on me talking back? Making you work for it? To the idea of me playing with your butt?” Stiles teases, grinning against Derek’s neck.

 “ _I hate you,”_ Derek hisses, but Stiles knows he doesn’t, “Get in the fucking car and get us to your house or so help me-”

“Yeah yeah,” Stiles says, waving off Derek’s threats and taking a step back, “I already know you’re all bark and no bite.” Stiles takes a few seconds to just take Derek in. The man was clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides, his breath ragged and his face set in a scowl. It would’ve probably looked intimidating if it weren’t for the fact that Derek was blushing pretty hard and Stiles could feel the outline of Derek’s hard-on through his pants. He noticed that Derek was trying to look collected and failing pretty miserably. It wasn’t a look Stiles was used to so he just smiled, pretty sure his own face was as red as a tomato. Derek smiled back and Stiles would never _ever_ get tired of that smile. Ever.

“You know, if I hadn’t known you’d been a virgin a few months ago, I would’ve probably never known. You’re so damn _shameless,_ ” Derek says (fondly?) and Stiles preens, walking around to the drivers side of the car, used to the teasingly dirty tone.

“You probably didn’t mean that as a compliment, but I’m too horny to care,” Stiles rambles out, sitting down and trying (and failing) to fasten his seatbelt. Derek, for all that he seemed a little wrecked all but seconds ago, is now calmly fastening his own seatbelt and smirking at Stiles. Damn werewolves. “Especially when you look at me like you know something that I don’t, which is _rare_.” Derek’s smirk turns into a glare. Stiles dances a little on the inside. “Besides, you’re the one who attacked me in a grocery store parking lot. So who’s shameless now huh? 

“If you want to have sex anytime soon, you better stop making smartass comments and start driving before I go home and take care of _myself_ ,” Derek hisses and yeah okay Stiles doesn’t want that. Maybe. Watching Derek get himself off was kind of- _yeah._ He finally managed to get his clumsy hands to cooperate and fasten his seatbelt. He almost hits the car in front of him in his haste to get out of the parking lot, probably driving way faster than was allowed.

He’d take the risk of his dad pulling him over. 

* * *

Stiles loved seeing Derek let go of his tightly held shields and totally immerse himself into what he was doing. Whether it was reading a book or cooking or getting Stiles off, it didn’t matter. Derek kneeling over him and sucking his dick was a very nice sight. The man was taking his time, slowly bobbing up and down, the look of blissful concentration on his face making Stiles squirm. It was the sweetest kind of torture Stiles would probably ever experience and he never wanted it to stop.

But they weren’t here for awesome blowjobs.. They were here for _butt stuff._

He pulled at Derek’s hair, noting the way the man shivered as Stiles’ fingers tugged at the strands. Stiles scooted up into a sitting position, pulling Derek with him up on the bed. He came willingly, sitting up in front of Stiles and kissing him deeply, making Stiles taste himself. Closing his eyes, Stiles felt Derek’s hands drift and press over his body in all the right places. He still marveled over that most of the time; the way that Derek had so easily learned how to manipulate Stiles’ body, figured out how to make Stiles want to crawl out of his own skin from the intensity of his touches. Kind of stupid and romantic sounding, huh?

Stiles dragged Derek closer, letting his hands drift over Derek’s tattoo, down to his ass like he’d done earlier at the car. Thankfully, Derek had lost all his clothing as soon as they’d crossed through the front door. And just because they’d both playfully stripped themselves while moving towards Stiles’ room, teasingly touching each other, didn’t mean they were silly or corny okay? They weren’t corny when Stiles had locked the front door, naked, and Derek had wrapped his arms around Stiles, chest to back, kissing his neck. They were _super sexy and manly as hell._ Just like Derek, who clearly liked the attention Stiles was lavishing on his asscheeks. Which were also super sexy.

God, Stiles was turning into one of those mushy people.

It just made Stiles want to see Derek fall apart even _more_. From Stiles’ hands, his tongue, his toys, his dick. Anything.

“Can I?” Stiles asked while slowly rubbing his fingers closer to where he desperately wanted to put them, suddenly hesitant. Because he’d been pushing, hadn’t he? By asking about it at such an inopportune time? Derek technically hadn’t said yes, right? What if he didn’t want to bottom at all?

“Will you just put your damn fingers in? I don’t wanna have to wait another 85 years,” Derek snarked into his neck, biting a little at the tendon, and Stiles’ doubts instantly disappeared. Figures. He should’ve known Derek wouldn’t be the kind of person to discuss this stuff at length. Stiles doesn’t know whether to scramble in excitement or snark back. He chooses neither, opting to quickly bring the fingers of his right hand back around and getting them wet with Derek’s own precome, which was slowly dripping down the tip of Derek’s dick. The way he let out a shivery moan at the quick touch made Stiles grin so hard his jaw ached.

Stiles let out a shuddering breath, moving his fingers back and dragging one of them over Derek’s taint, before slowly pushing in. He wasn’t as tight as Stiles had expected, which was kind of strange, so he added another one hesitantly. Still not a lot of resistance, which was weird. Stiles was _human_ and he took longer than this to prep so he’d figured, with all the werewolf healing, that Derek would probably be harder to open up than this, but it almost felt like Derek had already-

But that was-

There was just _no way-_

“Did you already do this to yourself today?” Stiles blurted out, choking on his own words. He cringed at how his voice cracked. Derek thrust back against Stiles fingers easily, his stubble scraping against Stiles’ cheek.

“Maybe,” Derek muttered teasingly, his fingers slowly moving over Stiles’ stomach, traveling over his happy trail and _stopping_ a few inches away from Stiles’ dick. But Stiles didn’t really notice, actually, because he was too busy staring at the wall over Derek’s shoulder, blinking stupidly.

“Do you do it often?” Stiles said, croaking out every syllable, the words not really registering completely in his own head. Derek felt hot and velvety around the pads of his fingertips, but the wall was still fascinating to look at, with the benefit of keeping Stiles from coming on the spot.

“Maybe,” Derek repeated,

“Do-” Stiles swallowed harshly, “Do you do it every-”

“Yeah, almost every day.”

Stiles stilled his fingers. It was almost completely silent in the room for a minute. Stiles could hear his own blood rushing, heard the neighbor’s dog barking, Derek’s hitching breath echoing in his ears. That is, until the words finally catch up to him and Stiles makes a sound that could probably only be compared to a dying animal, before attacking Derek with his mouth. What had he done, in a previous life, to deserve this man? Save a building from collapsing with his bare hands? Rescue a dying baby? Whatever he’d done had to be good because _sweet Jesus and Mary-_

Derek grunted and Stiles instantly honed in on it, repeating what he’d just done with his fingers, hoping to elicit the same sound from him. He succeeded and Derek squirmed in his grip. Stiles licked his lips, mind wandering back to the machine. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to completely take Derek in, remember every detail, if he lost himself in Derek’s heat like this. He wanted to see but stay in control at the same time, not getting lost in the quest for his own satisfaction.

“Can I-” Stiles cleared his throat, trying to not sound as squeaky, “Can I use the machine on you?” Stiles made sure to twist his fingers right into Derek’s prostate when he asked, trying to distract from the no doubt embarrassingly eager face he was making. Derek didn’t seem to notice the face and looked up at him with hazy eyes, pupils blown wider than Stiles had ever seen before-

before baring his _throat_. Which, coming from a werewolf, probably meant total submission. _Holy fucking shit._

Stiles carefully extracted his lubed fingers and scrambled from the bed, almost tripping over his earlier discarded pants, running over to his closet and almost yanking the door of it’s hinges in his haste. He’d taken to stashing the thing there instead of in the attic, for easier access. It was safely hidden between boxes of old school stuff and dirty lacrosse gear.

He tugged it out of it’s dusty prison, giggling maniacally when he shuffled back to the bed with the thing in tow.

He almost dropped it when he saw that Derek had taken matters into his own hands (quite literally). The man was arched slightly off the bed, his fingers disappearing between his legs, small breathy puffs of air leaving his mouth, a soft punchdrunk smile playing at his lips. Stiles could probably watch Derek for hours if he was like this, lost in pleasure and chasing an epic orgasm.

He quickly averted his eyes, trying to concentrate on setting the machine up properly. The faster he got it running, the faster he’d be able to watch Derek fuck himself with it. Take control and watch him close in on the edge, before dragging him away from it again.

Stiles sets the machine down in the easiest place to reach, his movements practiced. Derek had seen him use it a couple of times after the first incident, sometimes just yanking Stiles away from it before setting him down on his own dick without even giving Stiles time to adjust. And so what if Stiles was giddy like he was experiencing a sugar rush? He was finally getting to do this to someone else, instead of it happening to him. Hell to the yeah. 10 points for Stiles’ epic sex life.

He quickly grabbed a condom from his bedside drawer, pulling it around the silicone dildo. Derek sat up as soon as Stiles had set it up properly,  the rubber head facing the bed. Derek plopped down in a position that would cause the perfect angle. (That bastard. It had taken Stiles way longer) He looked just as excited as Stiles felt and Stiles remembered why he had started to fall for the douchebag beyond his looks and the amazing sex, in the first place. The humanity that Derek let show when he dropped his guard, just like this, was intoxicating and addicting in a way that sex would never be.

Stiles grabbed a pillow and helpfully put it under Derek’s hips when he lifted them.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Stiles asked, his hand hovering over the remote. Derek nodded.

“Didn’t I say so the first time I saw you doing this?” Derek spoke, “Fuck Stiles, you looked so good, writhing on the bed. Wanna know what it feels like.” And who was Stiles to deny him?

The grunt Derek let out when the latex covered dildo breached him was enough to have Stiles almost shooting his load. Derek looked like he was made to take it, his chest heaving with every slow thrust of the machine, his cockhead leaking steadily on his stomach. Stiles crawled onto his tiny bed, eyes plastered to Derek’s rim and the way it was swallowing the fake dick.

He started trailing his hands over Derek’s body, caressing all the sensitive spots he’d found in the last few months. His own dick was throbbing painfully between his legs, but Stiles ignored it in favor of looking at Derek and how he reacted to Stiles’ touches. The remote was tightly clenched in his hand, forgotten for a little bit. It was mesmerizing, watching Derek get lost in pleasure. There was always this edge of concentration to Derek’s movements when they had sex, like he was trying to keep from losing control.

“F-Fuck,” Derek grunted out, hands clenching in the sheets as he shifted. Stiles kissed him, muffling the moans slightly, and went for one of Derek’s nipples. He twisted it harshly, causing Derek to whimper against Stiles’ lips. “Make it go harder,” he mumbled, reaching for Stiles’ naked chest, dragging his fingers over the exposed skin in wonder. Like he’d never seen Stiles before.

Stiles chuckled, ignoring the butterflies raging in his stomach and easing the death grip he had on the remote.

“Your wish is my command,” he spoke, turning the dial up a couple of settings. It wasn’t fast enough to have Derek writhing, but good enough to have him panting and his cock drooling impatiently. Stiles almost felt sorry for the poor thing, except Derek had done this to him numerous times, so _really_ , Stiles wasn’t obligated to do anything but watch.

He sat back on his haunches and observed, casually stroking his own dick. It was only a matter of time before Derek would get close to the edge and Stiles couldn’t wait to see how he’d look being pulled right back, murmuring brokenly and frustratedly thrusting back on the silicone, chasing his high. At least, that’s what Stiles did. For all that he knew, Derek could be completely silent.

Judging from the broken moans starting to come from Derek’s throat, he didn’t have to worry about it. Derek’s thighs were shaking and the machine had to be hitting his prostate if the curses interspersed with the other sounds  were any indication. Stiles sucked in a breath before sitting up, scooting over and cradling Derek’s cheeks in his hands. Derek’s eyes were glowing blue and staring hazily into Stiles’ own, obviously lost in sensation.

“You’re enjoying this a lot aren’t you?” Stiles whispered, not breaking eye contact. Derek grunted in confirmation. “ _God_. Just look at you. Big guy, taking it all just for me. Just so I can watch you fall apart.” Derek panted at the words, his hands flying up to grip at Stiles fingers on his face, clenching his eyes shut.

“I’m not going to last if you keep talking,” he gritted out. Stiles smiled, pecking him quickly on the lips.

“You always love to talk to me when I’m in the same position, so it’s only fair I talk a little too. Don’t you think?” Stiles teased, “Besides, I don’t think I can help myself. You look so hot, talking is the only thing distracting me from coming right away.” Derek let out a broken sound at that, which only urged Stiles on.

“You like the idea of me getting horny because of you? I always do, you know? When you’re not here to fuck me, I jack off thinking of you inside me.” Stiles grabbed at the remote, turning it up higher with every word he spoke. “Or you know, me inside _you_. I’ve been thinking about it for _weeks_.”

“You sh- _fuck_ ,” Derek groaned, obviously struggling to concentrate, “You should get on with it then,”

Stiles hummed happily.

“And what exactly do you want me to do Derek? You seem to be enjoying yourself just fine,” he teased, raking his blunt nails over Derek’s chest, leaving bright red lines that faded within seconds.

“It’s all up to you, as long as I- _nngh_ \- as long as I can come-” Derek arched slightly when Stiles touched his sensitive sides, a whimper falling from his lips. Stiles could tell that the werewolf was seconds away from coming, so he grabbed Derek’s dick quickly, squeezing the base, and made the machine come to a stop.

“You only come when I say you can,” Stiles leaned down to give the drooling tip a tiny peck, before giving Derek’s happy trail a little pat and moving away from the bed to take in the sight. To any other, Derek would probably look a little frustrated and otherwise okay, but Stiles’ trained eyes saw a lot more than the average viewer. He noted the tiny tremors in Derek’s frame, the way his fingernails were sharper, almost claws. He took in the tiny amount of blood on Derek’s lip, aware that the wound had probably already closed, but that the man must’ve bitten his lip hard enough to break the skin.

“Scoot up the bed, away from the machine,” Stiles ordered, delighted when Derek immediately obeyed. Derek’s face might’ve hidden his excitement well, but his dick hadn’t. It bounced happily against Derek’s stomach, leaving little smears of come behind. The man relaxed into the same position he’d been in with the machine and Stiles crawled back up on the bed, Derek’s legs rubbing against his hips.

Stiles paused, noting the way Derek was following each little move Stiles made. Stiles leaned forward over Derek’s chest, boxing Derek’s head in with his arms. He searched Derek’s face for any sign of discomfort, but only found lust and...fondness? He lost any of the hesitation that had building up since turning off the machine, grabbing himself tightly. He slowly pushed in, his eyes never leaving Derek’s and however sappy it might sound, this was probably the closest Stiles had ever been to making love to someone.

His movements were slow, as he was trying not to come on the spot, Derek clenching tightly around him. If Stiles had to describe the experience, it would probably be a few garbled words with _warm_ , _incredible_ and _amazing_ strewn in between the broken syllables.

Derek’s eyes had closed, a small blissful smile of contentment on his face and Stiles stopped moving to be admire the sight. He eventually cracked one eye open, raising an eyebrow at Stiles.

“You going to move or what?”

“I- yeah- I just-” Derek slowly sat up a little, grabbing onto Stiles’ neck and pulling him into the most tender kiss Stiles had ever experienced. He hadn’t thought Derek capable of being that sweet and slow, and cursed himself for thinking that. When Derek eventually broke the kiss and dragged his hands down from Stiles’ neck to his asscheeks, pulling them towards him, Stiles couldn’t keep the words in.

“I love you,” he whispered, hoping that Derek wouldn’t hear it, despite him being close enough to kiss Derek’s skin.

“I know,” Derek returned, kissing his cheek. “I love you too you, you idiot. Now _move.”_

Stiles obliged, eager to please because _holy_ shit Derek loved him back. _Best day ever._

It was over embarrassingly fast, after that. Stiles managed to hit Derek’s prostate after a few tries and after dragging out his orgasm for so long, it didn’t take Derek a lot more to come. Stiles followed right after, the clenching heat a combination of _too good_ and _too much_.

When Stiles tried to pull out, aware and prepared of the mess, Derek pulled him back with sluggish movements.

“No. Stay inside for a while.”

Stiles was only happy to obey, lying on Derek’s chest, aware that Derek could easily take the weight. He didn’t care he was lying in drying spunk or that this was going to be a bitch to clean up.

 

 It was all worth it.

 

 


End file.
